A Witch for Solstice (Lez The Halls #1)

Chapter 1

brIGID

Flames dance behind the protective layer of glass covering the fireplace, lust blooming in my chest as I watch them twirl their orange hips. I press my hands to the surface, but the heat doesn’t penetrate my skin.

The Headmistress refortified the charms that block me from accessing my element before the coven left for the annual weeklong Solstice trip. I can’t feel a hint of the heat radiating from it.

Still, I try to channel its energy with all the strength I have, envisioning the power enveloping my body as my fists curl into tight balls. I concentrate until my head is pounding and tears of frustration are streaming down my cheeks.

Shivering from the exertion, I sit back on my heels and hang my head. This isn’t good for me. I don’t even know why I’m trying. It’s been a long time since I accepted that I’m never getting my magic back. I’ve made my peace with that.

I’m usually fine with the conditions of my punishment for burning down an entire wing of Shadowthorne Magic Academy when I was fourteen.

It’s a miracle the Headmistress allowed me to stay on and continue a modified course of studies when she could have tossed me out on the streets.

I had no family of my own to defend me from the council’s ruling, but she chose mercy by simply prohibiting me from using magic.

I’m grateful for that. Truly, I am.

But when the holidays roll around, and the campus is quiet, I can’t help but remember how good it felt to pull energy from the crackling hearthfire and use it to fly my broomstick through the longest night of the year.

Sometimes I wish I’d never experienced that soaring feeling. Sometimes I think my heart is being decayed by my sweetest memories.

Wiping my tears on my sleeve, I nurse the bottle of wine I swiped from the kitchen earlier this evening, when I crashed the house staff’s holiday party to fill my pockets with sticky buns and candy.

I wasn’t invited, so thankfully no one noticed me. They keep to themselves—the witches on staff who were born without magic. We might belong to the same layer of society, but they’ve always been wary of me–a gifted witch who was made powerless.

Losing access to my element also made me an outcast of my coven. There’s never anyone to share the holidays with. I’m stuck here in my room while they’re racing through the milky sky of stars to celebrate the Solstice.

I drink up the last droplets of wine to ease my loneliness and chuck the empty bottle into the wastebasket before climbing into my bed.

“Alright, Brigid,” I mutter as I sprawl out on my green and brown plaid comforter. “Pity party over.”

The coven will be back next week, and the student witches will return to their studies.

I’ll feel better then, when I’m busy working in the potions department as Professor Holly’s assistant, preparing her lectures and wiping down the cauldrons.

The quiet ache for what I’ve lost will be dulled by my fatigue.

But for now, pools of celestial light swirl behind my eyelids, the weightless sensation of flying coming back to me as I drift off to sleep.

I’m startled awake at some point, my mind still hazy and my pillow damp with tears beneath me. I can’t tell what’s roused me so violently from my dreams until I hear the guards posted outside shouting.

“Huh?”

My heart is pounding as I dash across the floor and inch the curtain open.

I press my nose to the window, my breath fogging the cold glass.

Snowflakes scatter across the inky night sky, and through the sheets of white, I can see shadows moving.

Giant birds are flying past the swollen moon, nearly blotting out its light.

I pull the curtains back a little further as they move closer. The winged creatures are way too big to be any sort of bird I can name.

They’re not birds at all. They’re dragons.

All seven of them begin to shift, their true forms morphing into something close to winged humans.

Their hind claws transform into long, trousered legs, and their elongated maws become faces covered in shiny scales as they float to the ground.

They’re wearing black suits with gold pins on their lapels that mark them as soldiers of the Dragon Queen.

“Ooooh,” I whisper. “This can’t be good.”

The Shadowthorne Coven has been feuding with the dragons for ages. They must be here to fix an old grievance.

Maybe it’s the wine making my legs heavy and holding me in place, but I’m still clinging to the curtain, too entranced by the tall, muscular woman leading the horde to duck beneath the sill.

Two gleaming golden horns twist back from her temples, protruding from a crown of blonde braids that are nearly the same goldenrod tone of the scales lying in rows across her skin.

Everything about her seems gilded, even the orange sparks that spray past her lips as she says something to the butler at the door.

My hand hits the pane instinctively to grasp at the fire she’s spitting. There’s no charm that can stop me from soaking up its raw energy. It shoots through my veins, and I gasp as the power floods my senses, reminding me how I’m supposed to feel.

How have I lived without my magic for all this time? How have I gone on for so long being so broken, so empty?

Smoke curls into my nostrils, summoning me back to reality. The curtains are burning.

“Oh shit.” I smack the fabric, smothering the rogue embers before they can cause irreparable damage. The edge is burnt to a crisp, but I should be able to patch it up before the Headmistress returns.

I take another glance at the drive below.

The dragons are climbing the steps to the Academy, and the maids are rushing in the opposite direction.

Their bustled skirts drag over the snow-covered drive.

I watch them run past the iron gates and disappear into the darkness of the woods beyond our boundaries.

It seems they’ve surrendered to the dragons and forgotten all about me being holed up in this old, charmed dormitory. I’m probably the only person left in the building.

I flex my fingers, considering my options. Hiding under my bed would be the smartest choice. I could wait under the solid oak frame and hope the dragons won’t discover me as they search for the relic our coven stole from their last King.

Yes, I think that’s why they’re here. I’m almost certain they’ll find it in this wing. It’s where the Headmistress likes to keep her dangerous things.

Another idea crawls through my fuzzy brain. After a bottle of wine, I can’t tell if it’s really bad or amazing.

The Headmistress can’t stop me from accessing my element if I escape the magical boundaries of our coven.

The Dragon Territory is just north of the Witchlands, separated by a mountain range we’re forbidden from crossing without permission.

I can get past that obstacle, though, if I’m right about what they’re looking for.

Snow is falling outside my window, plump flakes filling the horde’s footprints down below. The dragons are moving in. There’s no time to waffle on this decision.

I glance at my bed, but I can’t make myself dive beneath it. This half-assed escape plan could have dire consequences, but I’ll take the risk if there’s even a slight chance I might be able to hold my magic and feel complete again.

“Let’s do this,” I say, pepping myself up as I tug the sash from my robe. It forms a silky red pool around my feet, leaving me standing in my white babydoll nightgown. It’s nothing special, but the flared skirt, U neckline, and puff sleeves create a flattering look on my curvy body.

I wrap the sash from my robe around my waist and tie it with a big red bow because the dragons have recently selected a new monarch—Matilda of the Lindanna Horde, the first Dragon Queen in centuries. And from what I’ve heard, she’s a sapphic just like me.

I’m going to deliver myself to Queen Matilda as an offering.

I creep out into the dark corridor, and down to the open salon at the end of the wing, where the Headmistress keeps her collection of cursed objects and other rare oddities. Once I reach the stone archway, everything is illuminated by the suspended orbs bouncing along the vaulted ceiling.

Sliding across the polished floor in my stockinged feet, I pass the mahogany shelves displaying possessed dolls locked in charmed cases and nearly bang my knee on a haunted chair.

“That was close,” I gasp, taking a clumsy step back.

The spirit trapped inside is a shrieker.

The last time someone touched the damn thing, it screamed bloody murder for two weeks.

Alerting the intruders to my presence is the last thing I need, so I tiptoe carefully up to the platform where the Headmistress stores the most precious gem of her collection—an item she regularly boasts about to visiting covens.

The Royal Dragon Chest.

The heirloom used to be passed down to each new ruler of the Dragon Territory, its contents kept secret for centuries, but now the chest’s lid is propped open to show how empty it is. Whatever relics were in it have been sold off or traded.

I run my hand along one of the chest’s long iron edges and peer into its depths, a harsh realization cutting through my buzz as heavy footsteps pound down the hallway.

I’m being ridiculous. There’s no telling how the Dragon Queen will react when she opens a traditional heirloom and finds me.

A raspy, feminine voice sounds from somewhere near the south stairwell.

“Be careful,” she cautions. “I thought I heard a mouse scurrying around up here.”

Alarm bells ring through my head. Dragons have broken into the castle, and I’m going to use them as my getaway? What in the hellfire am I thinking?

“We don’t make life-altering decisions while drinking, Brigid,” I whisper-scream, chastising myself for this bonkers idea.

Changing my mind, I consider the quickest, quietest path to the nearest exit. A deep male voice comes from that direction, stopping me in my tracks before I can make my way to it.

“I’m not taking any chances while you’re here,” says the dragon. “We gave the Academy’s staff an opportunity to flee. Anyone sticking around might be up to something.”

That doesn’t bode well for me. I can’t make it to my room without being seen, so I guess there’s no turning back now.

“Here goes nothing.” I climb into the chest and pull the lid down, the lock clicking into place as it shuts. A few moments later, I’m being lifted and carried through the castle. I paint its layout in my mind, trying to guess when the dragons make it outside.

My heart swoops up in my chest, and I bite back a smile as I recognize the tug of a familiar sensation in my stomach. Everything is going to be ok. I’m past the walls of the Academy, and in this moment, I’m flying.